Captain Abbas al-Salem was twenty-two, but his eyes sparkled like that of a little boy’s. He was always fascinated with the blackness of space, and the shining stars, and the planets and the comets. He could only see those things from his smartphone previously, but in a few moments he would be able to see them with his own eyes. “Oi, Abbas!”

A large hand slapped him from behind, followed by a jolly laugh. “Oh, Henry,” Abbas said softly. His voice had always been rather soft and calm, but next to Captain Henry Applewood’s booming voice it was practically cotton candy.

“Come on, we can’t be late for the fleet launch, can we?”

The two young captains rushed from their quarters to Planet Yepren’s launching base. They boarded the battleship Black Rose, flagship of Battlefleet Datura. It was rare for such young officers to be posted at flagships.

“Late again, are we, Captain al-Salem, Captain Applewood?” the sharp voice of the Chief-of-Staff, Vice Admiral van Roijen, rang. Instinctively, the two Captains saluted.

“We weren’t late,” Henry countered. Van Roijen looked at his watch, and, surprised, realized that they really weren’t. A rare smile came to his face.

“It must be a miracle,” the aged officer said. “Anyways, the Admiral is requesting your presence. Off you go now.”

Black Rose was designed as an utilitarian warship, almost identical to the standard battleship deployed by the Republic of New Stars Armada, except that it was painted pitch black. It was rather blocky, both externally and internally. The Republic was never fond of romanticism, and preferred utilitarian designs. It was easy to navigate through, and the two Captains, though unfamiliar with the structure, soon found themselves in the central command room.

“Admiral Falkhausen, you asked for us,” Abbas said.

“I did.”

Admiral Falkhausen, a man in his late fifties, nodded. His body was rather frail, a rarity amongst the armed forces. “I heard good things about both of you,” he said. “You will join me as advisors for the coming campaign.”

Both men couldn’t conceal their slight surprise, before responding, “Yes, Commander.”

After being dismissed, they returned to their shared quarter. “Aren’t advisors usually rear admirals? Or commodores, at least?” Abbas asked rhetorically.

“Isn’t it because this is a crap fleet?” Henry half-joked.

Abbas smiled. “Well, it’s our crap fleet, then.”

The territory of the Republic was divided roughly into three subsections: the Core Sytems, the Sub-Core Systems, and the Frontier Systems. Of the Armada’s 28 battlefleets, most of them were allocated to the Frontier Systems, where war raged, or, rather selfishly, the Core Systems, with the Sub-Core Systems receiving scraps. This was reflected in the quantity and quality of the fleets as well: the three battlefleets in the Sub-Core Systems had fewer battleships than usual, and were comprised of subpar officers and older ships. Battlefleet Datura was one such fleet.

Abbas really couldn’t be bothered about such things, however. The space had captured his heart. Battlefleet Datura sped in space a few hours later. The two Captains stood beside their commanding officer.

The Empire, having more territory and resources, was as usual on the offensive. Imperial invasion may as well be added to the list of natural disasters: it was almost guaranteed for the “Imps” to invade once every two or three decades. Battlefleet Datura was mobilized to aid the beleaguered frontier fleets. “Good luck,” Abbas whispered to his friend.

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“We make our own luck, Captain,” Admiral Falkenhausen interrupted.

Battlefleet Datura flung through space with FTL engines. Space was vast, but most of it was full of destructive things: debris, black holes, anomalies, and others. Lanes where fleets could safely pass were limited in number. Sixteen thousand vessels—battleships, cruisers, and frigates, alongside many other smaller boats and supply ships—formed Battlefleet Datura.

Admiral Falkenhausen was relaxed. He was a veteran of several dozen battles, and had a good track record. His mind and heart were both geared towards warfare. One week later, Battlefleet Datura arrived at the southern frontier. The Republic bordered the Empire on three different fronts: the “south”, the “east”, and the “west”.

War was chaos. The age of single, decisive battles were long gone. The 33rd century was the age of assymetrical warfare, battles between fleets, hit-and-run attacks, and so on. Field battles between combined fleets of hundreds of thousands of ships were still present, but rarely were they decisive. Most ended in pointless bloodshed.

Battlefleet Datura rendezvoused with the other fleets around Planet Qatash, a fortress-planet that doubled as a supply base. A meeting was convened, but only the commanding officers of each fleet were invited. Nevertheless, the two Captains obtained information from Admiral Falkenhausen.

To begin with, the Republic had, in addition to Battlefleet Datura, four full fleets for this campaign:

Battlefleet Lotus, 14,000 strong, commanded by Vice Admiral Wallenstein;

Battlefleet Agni, 22,000 strong, commanded by Admiral Anand;

Battlefleet Heaven, 22,000 strong, commanded by Admiral Kadita;

Battlefleet Sakura, 13,000 strong, commanded by Vice Admiral Koo.

“All three of the sub-core system battlefleets are here?” Abbas muttered. Battlefleet Lotus and Battlefleet Sakura were almost mirror images of Battlefleet Datura. “That is ... strange. Where are the frontier fleets?”

“Apparently tied up holding off another invasion in the east,” his commanding officer replied. “That is not your—or my—concern. Rather, concentrate on our task.” Abbas lowered his head in face of this mild rebuke.

The Imperial Fleet—also called the “Numbered Fleet”—deployed six of its own fleets: the Second, the Ninth, the Twelfth, the Thirteenth, the Fourteenth, and the Twenty-Second Fleets, each comprising roughly twenty-thousand vessels.

“I wonder if the commanding officers are also called ‘Admiral One’, ‘Admiral Two’, and so on,” was a popular joke amongst the midranking officers of the Republic’s Armada when denigrating the Imperial Fleet.

Battlefleet Datura raced to Supply Base #190, besieged by Imperial forces. The supply base was well-equipped and—naturally—well-supplied, but if the siege were not broken, the defenders couldn’t last forever. The besiegers were 9,000 ships of the Ninth Fleet.

Admiral Falkenhausen was an open-minded man, and, per regulations, began an open meeting with his staff officers. The majority of the officers, Henry included, agreed on a general attack to rout the besiegers. After all, they had a nearly two-to-one numerical advantage.

Something nagged on Abbas’ mind. Too easy, he thought. In the first place, why would the Ninth Fleet, twenty thousand strong, split just to besiege some supply base? If they had intended to take it, they ought to have sent in the whole fleet. Nine thousand ships—just large enough to be a threat, but small enough not to warrant powerful counterattacks. And just where did the remaining eleven thousand ships go? The Information Bureau had failed to locate them.

Could this be a trap?

“Captain, if you have anything to say, go ahead,” Admiral Falkenhausen said, annoyance in his voice.

“Y-yes, Sir,” Abbas said. “I think this may be a trap, Commander.”

“A trap? How so? And why do you think so?”

“The enemy’s movement doesn’t make sense, Commander. If they seek to take the supply base, they could’ve done it long ago with overwhelming force. Based on that, and that the whereabouts of the remaining ships of the Ninth Fleet aren’t known, I believe this is a trap.”

“Specifically, once we commit our fleet, the remainder of the Ninth Fleet would attack us from behind.”

“The Captain’s words have merit,” Vice Admiral van Roijen said, “but on the other hand, if we don’t interfere, the supply base really will fall soon.”

Everyone went silent. All seemed to agree with Abbas’ assertions, but the supply base had to be helped, no matter what. “Then, what if we sent in part of our own fleet, then, when the trap springs, we can spring our own trap, and ambush them from behind. The vanguard part of the fleet, knowing this, can also quickly turn to face the attackers from behind,” Henry offered.

The staff officers agreed, and adopted the plan.

So began Abbas’ first large-scale battle.